Halloween Interlude
by The Dream Whisperer
Summary: ‘‘Halloween,’ Kyouya thought, scrunching his nose in half-disgust and half-amusement, ‘is remarkably overrated.’’ In which there is Victorian dress, Nekozawa is defeated by a greater evil, Tamaki turns grey, and Kyouya is amused.


**Halloween Interlude   
**

**Characters/Pairings:** Kyouya, the Host Club, Nekozawa, Nekozawa family servants. No pairings.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Words:** 2062  
**Summary:** ''_Halloween,_' Kyouya thought, scrunching his nose in half-disgust and half-amusement, '_is remarkably overrated._'' In which there is Victorian dress, Nekozawa is defeated by a greater evil, Tamaki turns grey, and Kyouya is amused.

'_Halloween,_' Kyouya thought, scrunching his nose in half-disgust and half-amusement, '_is remarkably overrated._

He looked around the Third Music Room, brows drawing together at the sight of the gaudy decorations. Crudely carved pumpkins were hanging from the ceiling, the candles shoved inexpertly inside them burning crookedly. Multi-coloured bats made of paper napkins, with misshapen wings, decorated the tables and chairs. Birthday candles hang on the walls, bright pinks and yellows and blues adding a misplaced cheer to the 'gloom' of the room.

It was Tamaki's fault that everything looked so shoddy, Kyouya sighed mentally. _He_ was the one who insisted on them decorating the room by themselves _today_, throwing away everything presentable that had been done by professionals without a thought. Kyouya was sure that he had heard Haruhi muttering something about 'rich bastards' and giving Tamaki a glare at that. It was _Tamaki_ who insisted on using 'commoner goods' – and waking up at an ungodly hour to buy those goods himself instead of getting Haruhi to do it; instead of using what materials that the school had provided.

Oh well. At least the customers seemed to love it. Or, at least, they seemed to love the fact that it was their beloved hosts who made the decorations, even though most of the work was done by Haruhi, with Tamaki and the twins trying to 'help' and ended up messing things up even more (Kyouya supervised).

Kyouya missed Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai's presence of in the club – Mori-senpai had a kendo competition this afternoon, and Honey-senpai chose to accompany him instead of attending the Masquerade Party. Maybe they would be able to help him prevent Tamaki from doing foolish things such as these, instead of encouraging the blond as the twins had done.

Remembering Honey-senpai's indulgence in Tamaki's fantasies and Mori-senpai's frequent acquiescence to the King's plans, Kyouya shook his head, a smile coming unbidden to his lips. Maybe _not_.

Their costumes this year were Victorian dress. Tamaki looked particularly dashing in his white starched pants, cravat, silk hat and cane, Kyouya noted. The twins were dressed in riding outfits, crops hanging rather daringly (for the Victorian age, anyway) from their belts. Haruhi had been shoved unwillingly into peasant's dress of dowdy colours, long trousers, a grey shirt and leather 

shoes with a beret worn tilted on her head, mussing up her hair and half-blinding her. Kyouya remembered Tamaki's repeated utterances of how 'cute' Haruhi looked, and Kyouya himself thought that the outfit was amusingly appropriate.

He himself was dressed as Tamaki's valet, a gentleman's gentleman. He wore a dark brown suit with a waistcoat of a lighter shade above a pristine white starched shirt. A black bowtie adorned his throat, and Kyouya had to continuously resist the urge to loosen it - it was tied too tightly for comfort.

Everyone had masks on, soft, flimsy cloth things that hid nothing. But it contributed to the atmosphere of a Victorian Masquerade Ball, even though the classy costumes and the delicate foods laid out clashed horrendously with the handmade decorations. The ladies did not seem to mind, choosing to giggle over or outright ignore the 'artworks' as they danced with their chosen hosts. Tamaki was particularly enthusiastic today, spinning his designations around, whispering what was probably long-winded endearments into their ears. The girls blushed and turned away, whispering 'you shouldn't's even as their bodies drew involuntarily closer to Tamaki, staring into his violet eyes.

Hikaru and Kaoru were dancing each other, pressed too close together to be considered decent in Victorian society. Their designations watched them, starry-eyed, as Hikaru dipped Kaoru and the latter blushed scarlet, turning away, a few drops of faux-tears gleaming in the candlelight. Never mind that the song was a waltz; nor the fact that dipping was a move exclusive to the tango and was thus inappropriate.

Haruhi was watching them, bemused, as she sat with a few of the girls and talked to them in what she must have thought to be an acceptable accent. Her words were jumbled and almost unrecognisable, but the girls lapped it up nonetheless, squealing quietly to each other about how 'cute' Haruhi was. She was shifting around in her woollen pants, scuffing her worn leather shoes on the marble floor. Hers was definitely the most uncomfortable outfit, Kyouya thought, amused, given that it was made of rough wool and linen instead of the silk and leathers (in the twins' case) that the other costumes were made of.

Kyouya thought it all to be very amusing.

He spun the girl in his arms around, giving her a genteel smile as she blushed. He did not give any sweet nothings or outlandish love declarations – that was Tamaki's territory. Most of the time, he discussed literature, politics and such with his clients, asking for their opinions and giving frequent smiles. His designations were usually the girls who wished to be treated formally, and wanted their opinions to be asked for, to be respected for themselves and not for their parents' wealth or names. Kyouya knew this very well; therefore he conducted himself to be what they wished him to be. This was the job of a host.

Things were quiet with the soft chatter of the girls and the low music, only occasionally broken by a shrill squeal or scream from the twins' or Tamaki's direction. It was all rather peaceful, Kyouya thought as he spun the girl again, feeling, inexplicably, so very bored.

Perhaps his thoughts were the catalyst to what happened next, but Kyouya doubted it.

A sudden wind blew from nowhere (for it _was_ nowhere – the windows were all close to prevent such a thing) and the candles all went out at the same time, even the ones inside the pumpkins.

Silence.

Then – screams.

Kyouya blinked, pressing a hand to a temple when his designation clung to him. He absentmindedly started to stroke a hand down her back, soothing her slightly while he looked around the now-dark room. Something like this happening was strange, but not unexplainable.

He pushed the girl away from him, giving a soft smile though he knew there was a good chance she could not see it. Walking towards the door, he could see, very vaguely, Tamaki trying to calm his designations but only succeeded in scaring himself, the twins' wide eyes as they clung to each other and Haruhi looking bewildered, as if she had stepped into yet another alternate dimension. Kyouya stifled a laugh.

He switched on the lights the moment he reached the door, and the room lit up. There was yet another cacophony of screams, the loudest of which was Tamaki's and a voice that was familiar but whom he knew was not supposed to be here. Kyouya had to resist the urge to press his hands to his ears. He looked around.

Ah.

Nekozawa-senpai looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His two servants (what were their names again?) froze in mid-step, the male half-hanging from the ceilings as he took down a few of the pumpkins, the female leaning over a table, a few napkin-bats in her hands. They stared at him.

Kyouya adjusted his glasses calmly before he spoke, "May I ask you what are you doing here, Nekozawa-senpai?"

The older blond twitched, and did not answer. Kyouya sighed, brightening the lights even further. The two servants were inching towards their master, and Kyouya turned towards them, giving them so sharp a smile that they froze again, legs raised to take another step. Kyouya wondered, idly, how long it would take before they fell due to the lack of balance.

Nekozawa twitched, once. Twice. Kyouya waited – counted in his head, '_One, two, three, four, fiv-_'

The hooded boy screamed, placed his hands over his head, ducked down, and threw himself into the closet all in the matter of a few seconds. Kyouya found himself somewhat impressed, but he did not smile. Nor did he laugh, even though the temptation was there.

"Kyouya-sama," The female servant had unfrozen herself and was now bowing towards him, still holding the bats. Her expression was reproachful, but Kyouya ignored that. "Umehito-sama simply wished to remedy the awful situation you have here!" She placed a hand on a breast, twirling dramatically, her skirts flapping around her in an invisible wind. Kyouya looked around for a portable fan. "The current (awful) Halloween decorations offend his senses, you see, and he merely wishes to help!"

"I daresay that causing a blackout and scaring our customers," he jerked his head towards the girls, who seemed shell-shocked, staring at either him, the closet or the two servants, "and our members cannot be considered 'helping'." He turned towards Tamaki, who seemed to be permanently frozen in a grey state. Even his white suit looked as if it was covered by grey ash. How melodramatic and Victorian-like, Kyouya smirked. How much would it cost to remove all that ash?

He held up a hand to prevent the protest he could see forming on the maid's (Kuretake's?) lips, "Nevertheless, we appreciate the sentiment," he nodded towards the closet, from which he could hear mutterings of 'Belzenef', 'cursed', and 'voodoo'. He raised his voice, "Nekozawa-senpai, you are certainly very kind," the male servant wobbled, still on his one leg, and Kyouya barely managed to suppress his laughter. Instead, he smiled pleasantly. He could see Haruhi twitch slightly in his peripheral vision. "However, do please warn us before you decide to help. Some of us," a nod to the still-grey Tamaki, although he knew perfectly well that the older blond will not see it, "have a more… ah, _delicate_ constitution."

"Kyouya..." whispered the King. Colour was visibly coming back to his face, and the grey of his clothes seemed to be miraculously repelled as well. Kyouya wondered if he could market that particular technique – it would be rather useful in reducing their dry cleaning fees.

He continued to speak, ignoring Tamaki, "Nekozawa-senpai, I will also appreciate it if you remove the door connecting the Third Music Room to the Black Magic Club's clubroom. Mysterious visitors from the closet lose their appeal after the Halloween. I'm sure you will understand."

A brief moment of silence (ah, how rare those were during club times. Kyouya took a second to savour it) before the closet door slowly open with a creak. Strange, the hinges were oiled, they should _not_ creak.

He dimmed the lights.

Nekozawa came out of the closet like some demon of mythologies, dark hood casting even darker shadows across a pale face. His hands were covered with a black silk glove and Belzenef, and he was staring warily at Kyouya, who gave him a pleasant smile.

The third-year was trembling a little, so Kyouya upped the watts of his smile. Just a little brighter, perfectly innocent. The older boy stared at him, blue eyes wide.

Kyouya heard the twins gulp loudly. Tamaki started to turn grey again. Haruhi seemed to be 

inclined to bolt at any moment. Kyouya manfully resisted the urge to burst into laughter at their expressions.

Nekozawa's servants came to stand at his side, almost as if they wanted to protect him to any evils. Kyouya blinked and gave them his most innocent look. The three of them twitched in tandem. It was most amusing and interesting. He wished he had the foresight to tape this whole thing down.

"I sincerely apologise on intruding on your party without permission and rest assured that the door will be removed by the end of this week please do not hurt us I'm sorry I have to go now goodbye." Nekozawa-senpai bowed jerkily, once, before speeding out of the room by the door. The maid and the chauffeur followed him, hideous napkin bats flying from their hands on float in the air for a few moments before landing on the floor. Kyouya smiled again, and bided them goodbye. They did not answer, which he thought was rather rude.

He turned back to the party members, adjusting the lights until it was exactly like it was before the unfortunate interruption. The orchestra started playing the waltz again. Tamaki regained his colour, and his suit returned to immaculate white as he turned back to his designations. Hikaru dropped Kaoru onto the floor due to a sore arm and what Kyouya was sure was relief, and Kaoru pouted, tears coming unbidden to his eyes. Haruhi smiled at her guests. Kyouya stepped forward and swept his customer up, back into the dance, his smile softening to its normal levels. The girls squealed, sighed, whispered, and otherwise made various love-struck noises.

The Host Club activities went back to normal.

_End_


End file.
